From alt.pub.dragons-inn Mon Jun 20 17:28:31 1994 Xref: netcom.com alt.pub.dragons-inn:7417 Path: netcom.com!csus.edu!decwrl!hookup!europa.eng.gtefsd.com!news.uoregon.edu!gaia.ucs.orst.edu!flop.ENGR.ORST.EDU!viper.CS.ORST.EDU!foleye From: foleye@viper.CS.ORST.EDU (Stilt Man) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [DS][BBD] Gathering of the Clouds Date: 18 Jun 1994 23:27:37 GMT Organization: Computer Science Department, Oregon State University Lines: 352 Distribution: world Message-ID: <2tvvt9INN61a@flop.ENGR.ORST.EDU> NNTP-Posting-Host: viper.cs.orst.edu [ADMIN: Okay, roll credits . . . written by myself, with editing and suggestions provided by Stephen Hutchison and Mike Sander. Roll film...] Eryll, the hieresiarch of Utgard, held the four adepts closely within her scrutiny. She could sense many things about them. First, they were hardly the most powerful unit that the Mages' Guild of Generica could have sent. Second, she did not sense any particular willingness to help, merely a feeling that their position was advisory only. Third, she sensed a certain internal disharmony within the group itself, suggesting that the various factions of the Guild had all had a hand in selecting the various members of this team as it was assembled to be sent. However, they had showed up, as per the treaty, and they had presented themselves for her inspection before the attack came. "Is any more aid forthcoming?" was all she said. One of them, a tall, spindly sort who had identified himself as Oporom, looked nervously at the fellows, who looked insistently back at him. He cleared his throat and pronounced the word, "No." Eryll sighed. She could understand the chaos that the Guild must be in now, without a leader and the many factions of the Archmages vying for that position, but she somehow wondered if they had truly considered the seriousness of the situation. Urco, whom she knew personally, probably was livid that this was the only aid being sent, if she knew him at all. Thorn, she thought with a smile, was no doubt dealing both with herself and the powers behind all this to try and reap the greatest rewards from both sides. She had no desire to know how Dasham might be reacting to all of this. She was quite happy that she was a hieresiarch to her goddess, rather than one of those Archmages. In that sort of political situation, one could not win, could not break even, and could not even quit the game. She inwardly prayed that this whole mess did not break through her defenses and extend westward. Such a divided Guild might have problems. "So be it," she finally said. Seeing that she intended to speak, the four wizards -- three men, Oporom, Ruhak, and Lorq, and a woman, Thiir -- paid close attention. "The situation is this: a necromancer of some power has opened a Portal to the Infernal reaches. Our astrologers do not predict that we will be able to hold them here, but I do not personally put much faith in such arts. I prefer to trust in myself and my goddess." She paused to take a breath. "We have thirty priests and perhaps a hundred soldiers in this village of ours, alone against this threat, with the four of you." Their faces turned grim. "However, if we have faith, we may yet be able to hold the will of this Dark Lord, whomever he may be, and at least buy Generica more time to prepare. What I want from the four of you is magical support for our priests and soldiers, and no expectations that you will be able to simply sit back and watch. Every man, woman, child, hen, and goat will be put to its full use for the forthcoming battle. Your status as advisors," she spat the last word, "will not protect you from participation." They conferred with one another. Eryll watched them as they jabbered amongst themselves, and then turned to her. Oporom spoke, "We are here under the Guild's orders and no others'. We have been placed under a geas, such that we shall not make any offensive strokes unless we are ourselves under attack." "My goddess is a higher authority than your Supreme Archmage," responded Eryll, "and were you not needed, you would not have been called here." Her eyes raked theirs, as if daring any of them to question further. "Get this conception that you are somehow unattached to this out of your minds. The faster you do that, the longer we will all live. Am I clear?" They grumbled assent. "Good. You may go," said Eryll. She shook her head in disgust the moment they were not present to witness it. One of her underpriests bowed. Recognizing the request, she gave him a gesture permitting him to speak. "Is our effort not better off without their unclean powers to taint it?" he said. "The witcheries of their superiors prevent them from even aiding us should it become necessary to take the battle to our enemies." She sighed. This was another aspect of their problems: the prejudice against magi amongst her own ranks. "We will need all the help that we can get. They have abilities that are useful to us. We need their help, not their daughters in marriage or anything," she said drily. She stepped to the window of the spire of the temple. The river still was its natural color; the Dark Lord had not thought to poison it as of yet. "The hieresiarch is wise," he said, looking up at her from under the ridge of his forehead. "The hieresiarch is a fool, you mean to say, from the look of you," said Eryll. "Come now, Weygandt, you may speak your mind. There are no rituals between myself and my inner circle." He shrugged. "Their hearts are not into this. We should send them back ere their dull spirits harm the confidence of our own people. The morale among the men . . ." "Is already collecting vultures," she finished for him. "As I said, we need everything we can get. For aught I know, our enemy may be watching this very conversation. He is a wizard. The way of this Dark Lord is of magic. We may need to fight it with the same." "I pray that you are right," Weygandt said. "If not . . ." "Enjoy my downfall." =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= "The serpents have sought them out throughout the Tower, my Lord," said the demon. "The intruders are gone, all five of them." Velric pulled his hood back, revealing the face with the pale skin, black, empty sockets, and hairless scalp. He leaned forward in his throne, examining the great grinning hellspawn before him. The creature had shrunk himself greatly to fit within the confines of this room, he knew, but still his aspect would have been daunting to the Dark Lord were he a lesser being. He stood hunched even now, huge musculature so great that his arms were thicker than the waist of a mortal man. All four of them. The forward pair of arms had four clawed fingers apiece. The after pair were folded behind his head, with the wings dangling from them curled up alike. Its head had no ears, and an opague blackness filled its eyesockets. Its smile was the most unnerving thing, the Voice reflected. Its entire face was wrinkled up around this grotesque grin, which stretched unnaturally across its entire flattened head, seeming to split its head in two. Normal blunt teeth filled that terrible rictus, with two fangs at the eye teeth. Long, curly horns stretched long from the side of its head before turning into short spirals into the points. The Voice felt the words of Velric come to him, and he related them to the creature. "They have fled in terror, of course. They knew that, though my power may have been assailable ere now, it is no longer," said the Voice. A soft glow filled the eyesockets of the Dark Lord for a moment. "But now, it is time for the campaign." "Indeed, my lord. The hell hounds have returned from their scouting mission in the night, and have reported that the Mages' Guild of Generica has made only minute efforts to assist the villages near this Tower," said the demon. "Excellent," hissed the Voice. "Has there been any sign of Bek?" "They have caught his trail heading westward." "Back to Generica, no doubt," said the Voice. "Returning to what is left of his old hideaways, to master the power of the 'Seed, never considering the price that must be paid for its power, a price that will be far more dear to him than it was to myself." A smile broke over the silent lips of the Dark Lord. "However, our efforts must remain small in scale until I can bring more of your brethren through the Portal. I can only maintain it over a small area of the Inferno, and once the demons of that immediate area sensed their way back into the world of men, it takes time for others over the wider domains to catch its blissful scent." He stood, stepping into the next room, out of the view of the demonic lieutenant. The maroon-skinned horror had received no permission to follow, and neither had the Voice, who stood there looking at it. "Has there been any further sign of the Shrouded One?" "No," said the demon. "My creatures have found no trace of her approach, either on foot or by magic, towards this Tower." "Go then. You know your destination for now. The Utgardi priests represent the most immediate obstacle to my efforts, so they must go first. They will not be destroyed easily, but they must be destroyed." The demon nodded, and its shape shimmered and vanished. Velric observed the serpents issuing forth from the Obsidian Tower. The news had not been well of late. The escape of these new intruders, as well as their sorcerous ally, did not please him. It led his mind down shadowy paths not well known. Did this sorceress represent a new threat from the Mages' Guild? Or was she connected to the Shrouded One somehow? What had become of she and Emrikol since her escape from the Tower? She had sensed no sign of them, though someone had indeed helped the intruders to escape. The new sorceress had probably been responsible for that. The most disturbing news, however, had come of his own scrying. Arcania had made another move, against a group of magi off the western shores of the continent. Moreover, she had not returned, nor had Velric heard from her since the battle. She had told him nothing of this plan, and that rankled him. However, that she had not returned . . . Velric found this terrifying. He had held Arcania in no small awe. If something had managed to defeat her . . . what was to stop it from destroying him as well? He was at the height of his power, but he held no illusions; Arcania had been much more powerful than he. But if she had been defeated, whatever had defeated her could not have been left in particularly good health afterwards. If he ever saw her again, he would have to thank her for weakening this unseen threat. But he did not expect to see her again . . . so he would also not have the chance to thank her for removing herself from his life. For now, his power was answerable to none. He could not have asked for better. The curse was a thing of the past, and his time of servitude to others also. The feeling was exhilarating. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= The first sign that something was amiss was the hissing sound. It was not the sound of the voices of the stone serpents they saw, it was the sound of their bodies whisking over the plains at speeds no normal serpent could achieve. The faint yellow glow that those in the towers at the edges of Utgard could see in their eyes made it clear what they were. They could see the Obsidian Tower behind the serpents, could easily discern whence they had come. The defenders manned the walls of the fortified citadel, and prepared to receive the demonic attack. Chants came from the four Generican magi, prayers from the Utgardi priests. Eryll thanked her goddess privately that the Genericans' geas did not prevent them from attacking until they were the only ones left standing. The battle was joined. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Myrnien rubbed her eyes, and glanced around the camp. Only she and Lancos were awake, though Tarkyn and Kaalzic were beginning to rouse. She glanced at Lancos, and despite his pleasant smile that attempted to claim he was just fine, he still had the look about him that suggested that he had not slept at all. She did not need much sleep herself, not after the experience with the Kramong, but she still did not think that was good for his health. As her eyes feel to the medallion dangling from the chain about his neck, it seemed to her that wearing this thing was hardly a great boon to his health, either. What feelings that had been passed to her during that experience did not leave her confident in its benevolence. That he had even less faith of such was clear. However, that did not concern her overmuch; they had both been through worse ordeals, and she had more faith in his willingness to tell her if aught was greatly amiss. Her eyes fell on the prone form of Kryalla Simuel, to whom such faith she actively denied. She still did not trust the Shrouded One. Yes, Lancos and Tarkyn and her brother had all assured her many times that the woman had never had an evil thought in her life, or what part of it they had known her, but this did little to boost the confidence Myrnien had, or more accurately, did not have. What was it about this one that inspired the trust the others put in her? Myrnien wondered about that. The woman explained nothing she did unless it was necessary for them to help in it. She always knew much that she did not even speak of at all -- Myrnien could read the presence of many secrets in those eyes so dark that pupil and iris appeared as a single pool of ebony. What they were, Myrnien could only guess at. That Kryalla Simuel had many responsibilities buried in her soul was clear. Myrnien grudgingly had to grant that much. She was a being of great magical power, that had defeated BBD on one occasion before -- that much BBD himself had made clear in his mention of her. Yet Kryalla rarely deigned to show that power. Why was that? Myrnien mused. Was Kryalla afraid of that power? Was she afraid of where that power might lead her? Myrnien could not help but gain respect as she thought of this. Power, once used, became easier to use, until the user lost all concern for how it was used, so long as it was used. It was something she had seen amongst powerful men and women before. Kryalla did not use her power for several reasons Myrnien could readily understand. She did not wish to give in to the temptation of it. Myrnien could intuitively understand how tempting it must be for the Shrouded One. And, she was forced to admit, it might well be a temptation she herself would not wish to ever have to face. She had seen such power misused -- Velric and BBD were sterling examples. The other reason was even more obvious to Myrnien. Kryalla wished to conceal her power from those who sought it. Thus, none others would succumb to the temptation. Myrnien found herself respecting Kryalla for these things. But it made the feeling of being a pawn no easier. Abruptly, the eyes of the Shrouded One opened once more. She stood, taking a step, stopping as though to regain her orientation. Myrnien frowned. What had she been up to in her sleep? Kryalla Simuel shook her head and looked at the sun rising in the east. The others were already awake; Kryalla herself was the last to rise. Or was she? "BBD is on the road from the Obsidian Tower to Generica. He knows the Mages' Guild is watching for the DarkSeed, now that the Portal has been opened, and he seeks to conceal himself by using physical means of transportation, rather than magical," said Kryalla. "It is ours simply to meet him ere he reaches his destination." The expression on her face grew more grim. "Velric has begun his offensive westward. The village of Utgard is under siege already. We can no longer afford to delay our search for BBD." No, Kryalla had not truly been asleep. Myrnien shook her head. The woman trusts us no more than I trust her, she thought. She could respect the woman, but there was too much subterfuge going on. The Shrouded One deceived them daily, as well as concealed things from them. That she had deceived them now, when she had appeared to be sleeping, was not something Myrnien doubted. Lancos caught her expression. His face seemed sad. Myrnien was puzzled. Someone had to watch this being to make certain she was not another BBD, simply sneakier. That was it, Myrnien realized. She was concerned that Kryalla was no better than BBD beneath it all. BBD had been like this, the first few days ere he had snared her in his grasp. That he had used similar methods on Velric and the Gutt Man she had little question. No, she could respect the woman, but she would never trust her. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= The smoke began to clear from the city-state of Utgard. Those who held it were human. For now. The hieresiarch walked from tower to tower along the stone walls which had aided in the defense of the village. One of the advisors from Generica, Ruhak, had been killed, and perhaps five of the priests. At least two dozen soldiers were also dead. But some form of wound had marked most of the rest, and they had repulsed the attack only barely. Eryll had the feeling that this first strike was a mere stalling action, designed to wear them down until the real attack came. Even this had taken all the invocations the priests could muster, all the courage the soldiers could bring to bear, all the spells the four advisors could cast. Eryll had seen one of the Genericans, the one who had perished, attempt to pull some small object from his robes and stare wide-eyed at it, as if waiting for it to do something special ere the serpents smothered him. However, the night went on, and all was quiet. Eryll hoped it was not too quiet. +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+ + Kryalla Simuel the Shrouded One + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+ + . . . scribed by the Stilt Man, + + foleye@xanth.cs.orst.edu + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+